by C. J. Miller
A few moments later, she slid a long plastic drawer to the man, who opened it and withdrew his items.
A safe deposit box. Justin had used a safe deposit box. To open it, he would need the key currently in Susan’s possession and the master key, likely controlled by the hotel clerks.
Brady took Susan’s arm and spun her, gesturing to the safe deposit box.
“Stop following me,” she hissed.
“Not going to happen. Especially not now,” Brady said. He pointed again to the front desk. Susan’s gaze followed his hand.
A moment of confusion was followed by dawning realization. Excitement burned in Susan’s eyes.
It had been months. What had the hotel done when Justin hadn’t returned the key? Had they called a locksmith to pop open the lock? Thrown away the contents of the safe?
How could Brady check? If they kept records of usage and asked for ID, Brady wouldn’t be able to get inside Justin’s safe deposit box. The police had been at the front desk asking about them. Had the police showed their photo? Would the hotel staff be on heightened alert for him and Susan?
Brady didn’t have time to come up with a plan B. The fire alarm in the hotel went off, strobe lights flashing and bells shrieking.
“Are you kidding me?” Susan muttered.
Brady looked around the lobby. No sign of flames or smoke. He didn’t see the police officers who had been at the front desk looking for them. Their experiences this past week told him whoever was after Susan liked using fire. It seemed risky to set fire to a hotel, endangering the lives of dozens of people, to flush him and Susan out.
“Something is off. You can be mad at me and you can write me off later, but we need to stay together,” he said.
Susan blew out her breath. “We’ll stay together for now, but you’re not calling all the shots.”
“Agreed.” Anything to keep her safe.
Could the alarm be a ploy to get them out of the hotel?
The hotel had three entrances: the front door leading to street, the back door leading to the greenhouse and a side door. Would the police have those doors monitored? Could the ex-Special Forces operatives hunting Susan be poised to attack?
“I don’t trust this,” Brady said.
Susan’s eyes widened with fear. “I don’t either.”
People were streaming out the front door. Could Brady and Susan blend and get out of the hotel without the police or former Special Forces operatives spotting them?
Their best move was to get out of the hotel and flee as far as possible from the scene. “The cops who were asking about us at the front desk moved to the back of the hotel. I don’t want to isolate ourselves from the crowd. Let’s follow everyone else out. Stay close to me. We cannot get separated,” Brady said. Especially not now. Susan wouldn’t leave his sight.
Susan grabbed Brady’s hand and squeezed it. A temporary truce. He was forgiven for now. The direness of the situation required it.
They walked into the line of people vacating the hotel. Outside, some hotel employees were on cell phones and others were directing people to the parking lot. If the fire was real, it would be a nightmare for the hotel employees to locate their guests. They could be in their rooms, they could be somewhere else in the hotel or they could be out for the day.
A siren screamed and emergency response horns blared. The fire department was taking the alarm seriously.
“Let’s get on the street and get away from this,” Brady said. He navigated through the crowd. If he and Susan were corralled in the same place where the police were, they’d be spotted. When more police officers arrived on the scene, they might recognize him and Susan. They needed to beat feet.
A hotel employee stepped in front of them. “Sir, ma’am, you need to follow the others and stay in the parking lot. We need to account for our guests. I’m sure you understand it’s a precaution to ensure everyone’s safe.”
“Okay, sure,” Brady said, not wanting to put him and Susan on center stage by making a scene and taking off.
When they were away from the employee, Brady lowered his face to Susan’s ear. “As soon as we’re out of sight, we’ll look for an exit and bolt out of here.”
“Where are we going?” Susan asked.
“Somewhere to lay low until we figure out what this fire is about.” If the police searched the rooms, would they locate his and Susan’s things? Did they have anything with them that could give them away? The notebook was in the room! Brady swore.
“We left the notebook in our room.” It could be an important piece of evidence. Whatever Justin had left in the safe deposit box could also be critical. If the hotel fire wasn’t controlled, they could lose vital information in building Susan’s defense.
Susan swallowed. “Should we go back inside to get it?”
The hotel employees might have the doors covered. It might be better to take their chances rather than be captured by the police. “No. Leave it for now.”
He and Susan stood with the crowd in the parking lot. One of the police officers who had been looking for them was standing near a hotel employee who was holding a clipboard and calling out room numbers.
The officer was smart. In his position, he could look at every hotel guest and find him and Susan.
Brady and Susan skirted to the edge of the crowd and ducked behind an SUV. “We’ll weave through these cars. Don’t look back. If someone shouts at you to stop, don’t turn around, keep walking. We’ll blend with the street traffic and disappear.”
The evacuation of the hotel was drawing a crowd, making it easier for him and Susan to get away from the scene.
A fire truck pulled into the parking lot, and the crowd separated to allow it to pass. Brady took the opportunity to run.
“Hey, you! Stop!”
He and Susan didn’t stop. Brady’s knee burned as his feet slapped the pavement. A cop car pulled in front of them and a police officer sprang from the front seat and drew his weapon. Brady pivoted on his heel, looking for a place to escape. Another officer appeared behind them, out of breath, cheeks red and gun in hand.
“You shouldn’t have made me run,” he said. His uniform’s nameplate read “Barker.”
He took out his cuffs. “Hands behind your back,” Barker said to Brady.
An SUV squealed to a stop at the curb, swerving to avoid running up on it. A man holding a semiautomatic weapon and wearing a ski mask and military fatigues got out of the driver’s side. The cops turned their guns on him, surprise written across their faces.
Brady recognized the build and the posture as the man who had chased them in the woods outside the ski resort.
“Both of you,” the man in fatigues said, pointing his gun at Susan and Brady, “get in the car. Get in the car now.”
The police seemed unsure what to do, moving their guns between the man in fatigues and Brady. “Sir, drop your weapon or we’ll be forced to shoot.”
The man in the ski mask was faster or cared less about the body count. He pulled the trigger on his weapon, taking out both officers. Susan shrieked in surprise, backing up against Brady, her hand over her mouth. Brady grasped her arms and moved her behind him. Who was this person who would open fire on police officers in public? This man must have a death wish.
“Hurry up! Get in the car!” the man in the ski mask demanded in a hoarse voice. “You,” he said to Brady, “hands in the air or I will kill you.”
Brady had no doubts of the gunman’s willingness to shoot them. He’d just proven he would shoot anyone who disobeyed him or got in his way. Brady looked at the two officers on the ground. If Brady delayed or could stall, someone would come to their aid. Two officers down in the middle of the city was a big deal. Most people in the area were focused on the fire at the hotel, but someone had to see them. Cars passing by, foot traffic
, anyone.
“You’re making a mistake,” Brady said. Someone would realize what was unfolding and follow them or make a phone call to emergency services.
“Shut your mouth and get in the car,” the gunman said and aimed his gun at Brady.
Susan and Brady got into the back of the SUV, a metal grate between them and the front seat. The back door locks and windows would have been disabled.
The gunman threw two pairs of cuffs into the backseat, holding his gun on Brady and Susan. “Put them on.”
Brady couldn’t get to his weapon fast enough to take the gunman out. Not with a gun trained on Susan. This time, Brady’s hesitation in reacting was intentional. He’d buy them time and get them out of this safely. Brady wasn’t as skilled with psychological profiling as his brother, but he knew this man lacked impulse control. He’d hunted him and Susan in the woods like animals. He’d killed two police officers in cold blood. Had this gunman arranged the other attacks or was he another hired gun? Brady didn’t believe he was taking direction from someone else. He’d never known a trained operative to react rashly and desperately in the face of trouble, and killing two police officers was the definition of rash and desperate.
This man, whoever he was, was violent, impulsive and reckless. In other words, he was the greatest danger they’d faced.
Brady slid the cuffs on his wrists and Susan did the same, locking them into place. With his hands in front of him, he would have some leverage.
The gunman watched from the open back door of the car, keeping the gun trained on Brady. Once the cuffs were on, the gunman reached to Brady’s side and took his gun.
“We’re about to go on the chase of your lives.” The gunman laughed maniacally and slammed the door. Susan cringed.
As the gunman circled the car, Brady checked the door. He and Susan were locked in, as he’d suspected.
“How are we going to get out of this? Kick out a window?” Susan whispered.
“Stay calm. Do as I tell you. This guy is reacting on a hair trigger. Don’t set him off,” Brady said.
The gunman climbed into the running car and pulled away from the scene with the same perilously fast driving, slamming on the accelerator.
If the gunman had been hunting him and Susan, why not kill them at the scene? What did he gain from killing two cops and kidnapping him and Susan? The terror on Susan’s face had Brady reaching for her hands to offer some reassurance.
Brady didn’t have control of the situation, but letting fear enter the equation would tilt the favor more toward the gunman. He’d been trained to assess a situation and then respond to it. At the moment, he didn’t know whom he was dealing with.
The gunman wove through traffic and Brady braced Susan as much as he could to prevent her from sliding around the backseat. The SUV continued away from the center of town and turned off-road onto a narrow dirt path, reminiscent of the place he’d rented from Connor: quiet, hidden and difficult to find help.
Panic flared in Susan’s eyes. Brady worked overtime to keep his face and posture neutral and calm. She had to know he wasn’t afraid. He would get her safely out of this somehow. She could count on him.
The gunman slammed the car to a stop in front of a run-down brick building. Parts of it were crumbling; the roof was collapsed in the back, sagging in the front and the entryway overgrown with ivy.
The gunman got out of the car and pulled open the back door. He was holding his gun in his right hand. “Get out of the car,” he commanded.
Gone was hoarseness in his voice. Something in Brady’s memory stirred. The voice had a familiar quality.
Susan’s mouth fell open. “I don’t... Justin?”
The gunman ripped off his mask and threw it to the ground. His eyes glittered with malevolence. “Hey there, Susan. Happy to see me?”
Chapter 12
Susan couldn’t move. It was as if her muscles had seized up from shock. “Justin, you’re alive. What are you doing?”
“I was waiting for you.” He glanced at Brady, rage hot in his eyes. “Which is more than I can say for you.”
Waiting for her? To do what? “I thought you were dead.” She heard the confusion, fear and anger in her voice. It was nothing compared to the litany of questions and accusations firing in her brain. Confusion dwindled away and anger took full hold of her. Justin had allowed her, his family and the world to believe he was dead. He hadn’t cared how much they’d been hurting or who else would suffer from his lies. He’d killed two police officers. But why?
“I wanted you to think I was dead. I wanted everyone to think I was dead. But you flamed up my plans and now you need to make amends for that,” Justin said.
Terror ripped through her. Why hadn’t Justin shot her on sight? The ex-Special Forces men who had attacked her and Brady believed Justin was dead. How was Justin involved with them? “How can I make amends?” She fought to keep her voice from cracking and failed. Brady’s hand was at her back, reassuring her.
Brady. Horror and sadness consumed her. She had brought Brady into this mess. Justin couldn’t hurt him; she wouldn’t allow it. Brady had enough battle scars to last a lifetime. What could she say or do to protect the man she loved?
“Give me what you took from my boat,” Justin said.
“We don’t have anything from your boat,” Susan said. How did he know they had taken something?
Justin let out a burst of sharp laughter. “Stop with the games. I saw you running away from my boat the night of the fire. When you left the ski resort and showed up at the Windsor, I knew you’d taken my keys. Tell me where they are. No one can know I’m alive.”
Did the keys lead to evidence that Justin was alive or was he concerned about her and Brady telling someone? Susan was sure Justin was planning to kill them. “We don’t have them. They’re in our hotel room,” Susan said. The safe deposit key burned a hole in her back pocket. Should she give it to him? Would he believe her lie?
“Did you get into my safe deposit box? Did you take the cash? The documents?” Justin’s voice had taken on an edge of panic.
“No, we didn’t,” Susan said. Cash and documents, likely his nest egg for wherever he was planning to run and set up a new life with a new identity.
Justin sighed. “Give me your hotel key. I’ll get them myself. Say goodbye to Justin Ambrose.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “I had a new identity in that box for you, too, Susan. We would have started over and had a good life.”
Susan reached into her front pocket with her cuffed hands and took the room key Brady had given her. She sensed him behind her, crouched and ready to spring. What was he waiting for? What would he do and how could she help? She handed the room key to Justin.
“Get out of the car,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out. Gravel and dirt bit into her as her body slammed against the ground.
Brady got out of the car slowly, silently. She recognized the dangerous look in his eyes. His face was passive, but his not eyes. He was enraged. What would he do? How could she help? Justin had taken his gun and their hands were cuffed.
Justin hit Brady across the face with his gun. Brady’s head swung to the side, but he didn’t fall. It seemed to anger Justin more. “Guess you were happy to see me out of the way. Didn’t take you long to get her back into your bed.”
Brady met Justin’s eyes. His face was bleeding from where Justin had struck him. “You got what you needed. Leave us alone.” The warning and threat that underscored the words was tangible.
Justin shrank away from Brady. Justin had always been intimidated by shows of strength. It was one of the reasons his father had been such a controlling presence in his life, one Justin resented but couldn’t seem to throw off. Susan rolled and positioned herself to kick Justin if he came near.
Another car barreled down the dirt
road behind them. Was it the police? Had help arrived? The car showed no signs of slowing or stopping. Adrenaline fired in her veins and Susan dove away. Brady leaped to cover her. The second car smashed into Justin’s, sending it sailing forward.
Metal twisted and glass shattered. Two men got out of the second car, guns drawn. They were dressed in black with weapons strapped to their sides and backs.
“Isn’t this convenient?” one of the men said to the other and then looked at Justin. “Looks like your dear old dad was right. You are alive. And you so kindly orchestrated this meeting so we can clean up in one fell swoop.”
Anger and fear showed plain on Justin’s face.
His dear old dad? Justin’s father? He had been grieving for a son he’d known was alive? Demanding the mayor apply pressure to the police department to arrest her for murder when Justin wasn’t dead? Why would he do that?
Was he hiding his involvement in Justin’s disappearance or working with his son to cover it up?
Justin’s father was a major player in the air force. What was his connection to the former Special Forces operatives who had tried to kill her and Brady? A lieutenant general in the air force would have access to the names of former Special Forces and Tim Ambrose had the money and gall to hire them for his personal use. Was it possible the lieutenant general was working against his son?
“How did you...?” Justin asked, his voice trailing away. He didn’t struggle when one of the men took his gun.
“Find you?” The man with a jagged scar along his cheek nodded at Brady. “You always have been sloppy.”
Brady positioned his body between Susan and the other men.
Susan looked between Justin, Brady and the two men, unsure what was unfolding. She couldn’t read the situation and didn’t want to make it worse by speaking.
“Everyone up and into the house. I don’t want to make a mess and I don’t want bodies found. Move it,” the other man said, lifting his sunglasses onto the top of his head.
